It had been 35 years since I saw my old Kenyan friend. In 1983 we spent 4 weeks together in the area around Lake Turkana, Matthews Range, South Horr, Mount Kulau, Ilaut, Maralal and Loyangalani to name a few places.
We walked with camels and ran out of water. We got attacked by lions, we lost camels, kit, money and nearly came to a very nasty end in Samburu. During those days, when we were near death in the bush beween Ilaut and Mount Kulal, my friend and another called Tim, walked through the night evern though they were weak themselves. They managed to reach a water hole but barely had strength enough to lift out water.
These Kenyans were the same age as us – about 18 – and yet they took it upon themselves to rescue the group, some of whom had been left behind under a bush as they were too weak to walk.
It was to be highlight of my 2019 trip to East Africa – to visit my old friend in Marabit. Because of the threat of violence against his minority tribe in the region, his name will remain known to me only. It’s a shame that the tribes in Marsabit don’t integrate more. They marry within tribes and seem to trust only their own people. When you speak to people in Kenyan, they soon let you know which tribe they are from.
He farms just outside Marsabit and he and his wife also work in full time jobs in the town itself. They have 6 children from university to primary school.
He got electricty 7 years ago athough it often gets cut and his life is centred around water, or lack of it. He has a number of large tanks and collects every drop of water which lands on his roof. He has a system of draiage and water flow which means he has enough for cooking and washing in the dry seasons.
His farms is doing very well and he is known locally for his farming skills. When I was ther, a group of men came to pick miraa (qat) which he grows as a cash crop. We counted 18 different crops on his land including honey.
It is sad that I cannot go into more detail about the farm here. For the safety of his family he keeps his head low and does not want to draw attention to the fact that he’s doing well, for fear of attacks fro the dominant tribe Borana tribe. Currently they all live together peacefully but that changes very quickly when trouble flares up.
We spent a pleasant few hours comparing our diaries from 1983, reading the same days from two different perspectives. Where I had written about lack of food and water he had written about the geographical landscape, the lava flows and which plants and animals we had seen.
He has no bathroom so I stayed at the Nomad’s Trail in town. It was comfortable enough and I was reminded of the need for safety by the fact that the hotel had to employ an armed guard to stop the place being attacked by bandits.
Everywhere in Kenya felt unsafe.